A Xenosaga drabble by
Majo-chan
Comments: Possible spoilers. Will probably be rendered AU by XS3.
Summary: Nigredo and Rubedo, on their way to becoming Gaignun and Jr.
**Nigredo
When he woke up, everything was already over.
He woke in degrees, in layers of sounds and smells and finally, sights. It was quiet, where he was, like the stillness of a classroom after all the children have left. Somewhere he could hear whirring and humming and the quiet inner workings of machinery. The air was cool and dry from going through the recyclers repeatedly, with a tang of antiseptic. The place smelled sterile, in a way that was different from the Institute's laboratories. Less pungent chemicals...a hospital of some sort?
And when he opened his eyes, the sunlight filtering cheerfully through the windows hit him squarely in the face, so he had to close his eyes again. The brightness pushed back the shadows of his memories and it almost seemed like the nightmare never happened.
But echoes of darkness and terror still stirred in his head along with the thought oh my god, Albedo, what have you done? It almost seemed wrong, then, to see the sun shining.
He sat up, aching but nothing felt broken, and touched his head. The skin felt tight, and he discovered bandages around his head and his right hand, hiding his number. A breeze was wafting through the half open window, bringing with it a faint smell of salt and the sea.
Before he could ponder on why he was in a hospital near water though, a jolt ran through him and the quiet in his head receded.
You'reawakeyou'reokayI'mcomingwaitforme!
He was in a hospital of some sort...a large one, with multiple floors and wings and a garden out back--he knew because his brother had seen it, and it was large and green and the air was different and they were not on Miltia anymore--and he felt short of breath even though he wasn't the one doing the running.
Albedo had laughed and said "If I'm a monster, then you must be a monster too, because we're all the same." And Rubedo had protested, "No, we're not monsters!" But Nigredo had quietly thought differently, thought 'it would not be so bad to be a monster, if we are all monsters together'.
"Whoa, easy!" someone outside laughed, and the door across the room slammed open and a second later, he was bowled over by fire and wind and his red-haired mirror image. They were laughing, or crying, or trying to speak, but nothing came except thoughts tumbling over one another like waves breaking against the beach.
Ithoughtyouhaddied/I'msorryIcouldn't stop him/ I can still feel him he's alive/ where are we/why are we here/I'mglad you're alive/I'mnotalone/we're not alone/thankyou
The sunlight drifted through the window, and even though the world continued to be horribly, horribly wrong, for that moment, he was all right.
**Helmer
Helmer was a good commander, a good leader, but most of all, he was a good soldier. Having been trained as one --despite the fact that they were rather pint sized. But hey, that provided an advantage, no one was expecting twelve year olds to carry arms-- they could appreciate the irony of having escaped a mad scientist only to exchange him for a man of war.
But there was no more war, even if there were pockets of rebellion and madness still spread through Second Miltia, their precarious haven. Everyone was too busy getting over the horrors of war and rebuilding to notice the two bedraggled children in the care of their new Representative to the Federation, and the secrets of the U.R.T.V. died with their father and brothers. They were just war orphans now, and no one gave war orphans a second glance.
**Rubedo
His brother was never quite the same afterwards, but there was nothing to be done about it. All of them had been so closely entwined in each other that the death of all his brothers --loss, a part of him whispered, we lost Albedo, but he's not dead-- was not something they will ever get over. But Rubedo and Albedo had been more, if Nigredo and the others had been merely appendages, then Albedo had been half of brother's heart.
It was a year later, when Helmer took them into the encephelon to do firearms training. He had picked up one of the smaller handguns, ones he had seen Rubedo wield with deceptive ease, and took aim at one of the moving targets. He pulled the trigger and the tiny gun's recoil sent him flying, landing on his ass with an undoubtedly dumbfounded expression. The bullet disappeared off into the distance, having missed the target by at least three meters. Rubedo nearly laughed himself to death.
Later, after the burn of embarassment faded somewhat from his face, Rubedo elbowed him and snickered, "But you've used a semi-automatic before!"
He had, and thanked whatever deity was out there that Rubedo hadn't been there to see him fire it. The adrenaline had kept him on his feet, but his aim had been no better. Instead, he defended himself the best he could. "I wasn't expecting the recoil."
It wasn't enough defense to keep his brother from giggling quietly to himself for the next few days, but it was enough to see him smile again.
**
End